


It's Just One Of Those Days

by AnalyseThisInkBlot



Category: 28 Weeks Later (2007), Arrowheads, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: But there's zombies what do you expect?, Fluff, M/M, Oh, Other, and 28 weeks later reference, and a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnalyseThisInkBlot/pseuds/AnalyseThisInkBlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl Dixon can't seem to concentrate, instead his mind wanders back to an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The product of insomnia and procrastination. But hey, isn't that how all my writing comes about?

Daryl had snuck off to do some target practice. Although he would never admit it, the last walker he shot his aim was slightly left of centre, and he knew he could not afford to make mistakes. As he tried- successfully- to shoot the moving tree trunks that had been suspended for this purpose, his mind wandered back to the conversation he had with Andrea about the time he got lost in the woods. He had told her he found his way back alone, fine minus one sore ass. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. 

The woods were considered scary for anybody, but especially a child. The boy was lost, cold, tired, sore, with a burning ass and it didn’t matter how much he tried he couldn’t rinse out the piss smell from his clothes from when he soiled himself on the first night. He had managed to survive from the skills he had learned from times he had run away before or when his dad had left him and his brother to fend for themselves, but he had no idea how much longer he could go on like this. He doubted that anyone was looking for him- heck, he doubted anyone had noticed he had even gone- so knew he was on his own when it came to finding his own way back.  
He was attempting to climb up a flat, rocky hill when he realised he was not alone. He could feel the eyes bore into the back of his neck before he knew where the source of his paranoia was coming from. It was only after he missed his footing and slipped did the spy make a noise. A laugh. He looked up into the trees and found the source- a boy, not much older than himself.   
“That the best you got?” he guffawed.   
“Shut up, I’d like to see you do better.” He grabbed a nearby rock and chucked it at the boys head, only missing because he moved out of the way.  
“I did do better, that’s why I’m in this tree and you’re stuck there.”  
“What you even doing up there, practicing your hawk impressions?”  
“Watching you.”  
“You’re weird.”  
“Says the kid who’s been stuck in the woods for the past few days.”  
“How the hell did you know that? Have you been following me?!” he tried to sound aggressive but he came off more scared than anything.   
“Relax, I’ve just noticed you, that’s all. I come in these woods a lot to escape.”  
“Escape what?” Daryl wasn’t really sure why he was so interested, but since the boy obviously wasn’t gonna help him, he might as well entertain him. Not that he would admit it, but he had missed social interaction.  
“My dad, I guess.” He shrugged it off, obviously this was a sensitive topic.  
“How come?” Not that Daryl cared for sensitivity.  
“I’ll save the daddy issues for the strippers. You gonna get your ass up here or what?”  
“You gonna give me a hand?” To his surprise, the boy jumped out of his tree and found a loose tree root to lower down to him.  
“Grab on.” He did with his blistered hands, whimpering slightly as he was pulled up.  
“Thanks.” He extended his abused, filthy hands for a handshake. “ ‘Name’s Daryl. Daryl Dixon”  
“Clint. Clint Barton.”

“You stink of piss.”  
“That’s ‘cause I scared a girl so much she pissed herself right next to me.” Clint knew this was an outlandish lie, but laughed anyway. Daryl liked Clint, he was a bit older than himself but didn’t patronise him like all the older folk he knew.  
They were lying on the floor next to each other, close enough to be able to feel each other’s body heat in contrast to the cool twilight air.   
“Why don’t you go home and leave me, Clint?” there was a tinge of vulnerability to his voice, but was masked, too well for a child his age Clint noted.  
“There’s no point. Dad’s gonna be mad at me for leaving. Might as well go back in the morning when he won’t even be able to remember I was gone.” The boys laid there in content silence for a while, looking at the stars the poked through the small gaps in the trees. “Bet you can’t wait to go home, kiddo.”  
“Don’t call me kiddo. I guess. I don’t really miss much except toilet paper and peanut jelly sandwiches.”  
“What on Earth is a peanut jelly sandwich?”  
“You have not lived my friend if you have not tasted the food of angels.”  
“I thought you said you weren’t religious.”  
“Even chinks would convert to Christianity for this.”  
“Hey, don’t say that.”  
“Don’t say what?”  
“Chinks”  
“But everyone says that.”  
“So? Do you think everyone you know is a decent guy? No, of course you don’t, you know most people are scum. So why would you wanna copy them? Don’t use that word to be mean to people who don’t deserve it. Save it for people who do.”  
“Sor-ry.” He extended the syllables to show he wasn’t really.  
“Just try to get some sleep kiddo, okay? We’ll get you home to your sandwiches tomorrow.”  
“Night Clint.”  
“Night.”  
“Clint?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Don’t call me kiddo.”  
“Night kiddo.”

“Does this look familiar to you?” Clint asked.  
“Yeah! My house is nearby, I’m sure! How the hell did you get me here?”  
“I’ve got a good memory and eye for detail. It helps.”  
“More like a bird brain.”  
“Shut up, kiddo, let’s go home already.” 

Daryl walked in through his unlocked door and breathed in. At first he was happy to see nothing had changed, a couple more empty whiskey bottles perhaps, but that’s about it. Then it settled in- there was no rescue effort. Not posters with his face on, no maps with routes trying to locate him. Nothing. And boy, didn’t that hurt more than he’d care to admit.   
“Thanks, Clint, I never could have got home without you.”  
“Alright, alright, don’t get emotional on me, Jesus, I’d think you were turning into a girl.”  
“Shut up.” He wiped the snort trailing down with the back of his hand as he suppressed the tears burning in his throat.   
“I better go then, don’t want your old man thinking I kidnapped you.”  
“Wait! I need to give you a peanut jelly sandwich.”  
“So you do.”

They sat at the table with their sandwiches Daryl made as Clint watched, making comments the whole time such as ‘that looks disgusting’ and ‘what a waste of perfectly good peanut butter’. Daryl refused to take a bite until he saw Clint’s reaction. After poking at the concoction for a bit, he finally raised it to his lips and took a bit. “Oh-ey-owd.” He said with his mouth still full. “That, is amazing.” He said after he swallowed.   
“Told you.” Daryl said smugly, finally taking a bite of his own sandwich.   
“I gotta hand it to you kiddo, you know what you’re on about.” They sat in silence happily munching away at the rest of their food. 

“I’m off, kid, I better face whatever hell my dad wants to unleash.” Clint said hesitantly.  
“M’okay.” Daryl sulked. He would say it with more conviction if it weren’t for the fact he was exhausted.  
“I’ll see you around though, kiddo.”  
“See you, birdbrain.” Clint flashed him a smile, and was off.


	2. Chapter 2

“You alright, Daryl?” Rick asked as they were on watch.  
“Yeah, just a bit distracted, that’s all.” He replied.  
“Don’t be, we can’t afford distractions.” That sentence ended up being counter-productive.

“Don’t get distracted, okay?” Clint said softly into his ear, as he stood behind him. His hand was on Daryl’s elbow raising it up as he aimed the bow at the tin cans they had lined up on the fence.   
“I won’t, okay? Seriously Clint, why do you even have a bow?”  
“Just shut up and shoot, kiddo.” It had been a few years since the boys had first met, and although they did not see each other as much as they would like, they made sure to keep in contact whenever they could. Daryl took in a deep breath, held it, and released the arrow. He missed.   
“Fuck it, this is so stupid, Clint, why would I ever need to know this?”  
“It’s just a bit of fun. You can’t sulk every time you don’t do something perfectly. Try again, but exhale as you let the arrow go.”  
“I’m sure that’ll work, birdbrain.”  
“Do it before I put that arrow in your head.” Daryl only muttered a reply under his breath, too quiet for Clint to hear. He just chuckled as he watched his surrogate brother go fetch the arrow. His heart always ached slightly as he watched him move, how skinny he was. He wished he could feed him up but he could barely get enough food for himself most of the time. He returned with the scowl Clint was all too accustomed to, and had to stifle his giggle for fear it would aggravate him further. Daryl stood facing the cans, and took an exaggerated breath- making sure Clint was watching his frame as he breathed in, and out- and released the arrow. He hit the can.  
“Alright, I knew you could do it!” Clint said with genuine pride. “How good did that feel?”  
“Pretty good, actually.”  
“Wanna try again?”  
“Yeah.” Daryl retrieved the arrow and stood aiming the arrow and the next can.  
“Concentrate, don’t let yourself get distracted.” Clint said as he wrapped his arms below Daryl’s waist.  
“Wh-”  
“Shoot already.” Just as Daryl exhaled ready to release the arrow Clint started tickling his abdomen.   
“Stop! How the hell am I gonna get it?”  
“You never know what sort of distractions you could have, you need to be able to work through them.”  
“Okay, okay stop! Seriously Clint, how realistic is that?”  
“Not particularly, I just wanted to tickle you.”  
“You’re such a freak.”  
“Shut up kiddo.”  
“Birdbrain.”

“Hey, look Daryl, A Cherokee Rose. Remember what I told you about them?”  
“That superstitious bullshit? I remember.” They had given up on archery for the day and sat in the long grass of the field they had escaped to.  
“You know I wish you wouldn’t cuss like that. Stop trying to sound so old, try and enjoy being a kid whilst you can.” Daryl couldn’t think of a reply- he hated to be berated like that, but he knew it came from a good place. After a while he simply responded with  
“Who do you think is missing right now?”  
“I dunno.”

“Daryl, walker!” Daryl snapped back to the present and released his arrow from the crossbow, hitting the walker in the eye. His arms ached for a different weapon.


	3. Chapter 3

Carol came to find Daryl to bring him some food- rice and beans, again. “You okay?” she asked.  
“Of course I am.”  
“You just seem a bit distant, that’s all.”  
“It’s just one of those days.”

Daryl’s mind was drawn back to another repressed memory he had of Clint. This time it was the first time Clint had come home after leaving for his mysterious new job. Merle had disappeared- juvie or sofa surfing, he couldn’t remember- and his dad had left so he had the house to himself. Clint was staying with him for his holiday.  
“C’mon, Clint, you can tell me! I promise I won’t tell.”  
“If I told you where I worked, I’d have to kill you.” Clint was sat on the floor as Daryl laid on the sofa, chin resting on Clint’s shoulder.  
“Who am I gonna tell you’re a spy?”  
“I’m not a spy!” He grabbed a cushion and slammed it into Daryl’s face.  
“Alright, alright, calm down! If you’re not gonna talk about your job can we at least talk about whatever the hell is happening with your shirts? Have you forgotten what sleeves are?” Clint let out a hearty chuckle.  
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with this. Besides, these swans looks sick.” He started pouting, posing in all the stereotypical body builder posers.  
“Do you need me to kiss them better?”  
“You think you’re so clever kiddo.” He grabbed him round the head, and started wrestling with him.  
“I’m not a kid anymore!” he yelled as he overpowered Clint.  
“I guess not.”

“Hey kiddo?”  
“Yeah.” Daryl mumbled into his pillow, half asleep.  
“Do you ever think about having kids?”  
“Where the fuck did that come from?” he sat up.  
“Dunno, was just thinking about it.”  
“Well if you want to make one right now we have a slight problem.”  
“No I don’t mean, I mean, don’t you think it would just be nice to settle down one day? Do everything right, not make the same mistakes our ‘rents did?”  
“Yeah,” he said dreamily. “Yeah, I could play football with them in the garden, and make their favourite dinner-as long as it was pasta- and give them bubble baths and read to them at night.”  
“Exactly!”  
“And never let them feel unloved or unwanted.” Daryl’s voice cracked.  
“Hey, hey, no, I’m sorry I brought it up.” Clint wrapped his arm around Daryl.  
“I’m fine.” He shrugged, showing Clint he didn’t need reassurance, but didn’t try again to move his arm when Clint didn’t budge. “I wish two guys could have kids. Could you imagine what our DNA would be like combined?”  
“You say the weirdest shit when you’re sleepy.”  
“Shut up, you started this conversation.”  
“It would be awesome. Our kid would be a little ass-kicker.”

Daryl remembered how cut up he had been as Clint had to leave to go back to ‘work’. His fingers absently fidgeted with the frayed fabric where his sleeves were as he thought of the first night after Clint had left; he had left one of his tops, which Daryl slept in that night. Not that he would ever admit that. Or admit sleeping in it the night after.


	4. Chapter 4

There has been an unusually large swarm of walkers that day, so after taking out what they could the men gathered the bodies ready to burn. No words were said, not anymore. There was no point. Daryl looked into the flames, and his mind couldn’t help but go back to the one memory he had been avoiding the most.

He’d been in the city when he first witnessed a walker. He had been walking in the street when he heard a gunshot behind him.  
And another.  
And another.  
He turned and saw the fallen bodies, but not the source of the gunshot. He was scanning around for the attacker when a man walked- no, limped- up to him, jaw gnashing, bloodstained hands outstretched. Another gunshot. Daryl spat out the splattered brains that had entered his mouth that was open in shock.  
He froze. All around him he saw swarms of people attacking each other, ripping them apart with their teeth. Another ‘person’- for he was not sure what they were anymore- staggered towards him, until it was shot in the head. It was then he noticed the snipers on the roofs. Another shot went past his head and hit the person behind him who had snuck up.  
As he turned he noticed a woman dragging her child to an open door at the side. Daryl made a dash to join them. They slammed the door behind them, just in time judging from the banging and unintelligent moans coming from outside. He scanned around the room and saw that apart from the one teenage girl, only a few years younger than Daryl, they were alone. 

Night had fallen in the time they had been waiting. It turned out the child did not belong to the woman, but was in fact related to the girl who was already there. Daryl had let them have their reunion as he walked around the room looking for ways for people to get in. He was slumped against the door to stop anyone- or anything- from getting in when he heard the banging. Daryl sat up, this was different, there was more purpose to this banging. “Let me in!” Daryl stood up, backing away against the door.  
“Daryl for the love of God let me in!” Daryl opened the door, pipe in hand that he had found ready for whoever was outside.  
“Clint?” he threw his arms around Clint’s neck.  
“Yeah, it’s me dummy.” Clint moved into the embrace, his voice no where near as harsh as his words.   
“What the hell is going on?”  
“There’s a virus or something. We’re not being told much.”  
“We? Wait, you were one of the snipers, weren’t you?”  
“Yeah. We’ve got orders to kill anything that moves right now. Daryl I need to get you out of here.”  
“Why are you... are you gonna tell me what your job is or not?” he yelled in desperation and confusion.  
“Or not. C’mon we don’t have time for this, let’s go.”

They had tried to escape with the woman and children, but the lady started yapping on about the boy’s life being more important than theirs, and Daryl couldn’t believe that anyone was more important than Clint in that moment. They separated, Clint and Daryl heading into the city as the other fled away.   
“We need to get to the football stadium. I’ve got a ‘copter waiting for us.” Clint stage whispered as they jogged, trying to get through the city without being seen by the snipers who had not left their post yet. “We’ve got about 5 minutes to get there before it leaves.  
“5 minutes? Then what’s that?” they looked up at the fleet of aeroplanes flying above them.  
“Shit. Daryl, get in that car. Now.” Clint ordered, his face void of any emotion. They got in to the nearby car with the door that had been left open. The keys had been left in; they began to drive away.

“Clint, what’s going on?”  
“Shut up, it doesn’t matter, we’ll be outta here soon.”  
“Don’t treat me like a kid! I am fucking scared and I need you to tell me what’s going on.”  
Clint took in a deep breath. “No, you’re not a kid anymore. They’re about to gas the city. Phase 1 of keeping everyone in the city must have failed, so they’re moving onto phase 2- extermination. Don’t worry, we’re almost at the stadium-shit.”  
“Clint, why has the car stopped?”  
“Shit.” Clint grabbed at the throttle and pushed at the peddles, but knew he had to get out and look under the hood. “Stay in here, no matter what happens, okay?” he grabbed Daryl’s face, eyes boring into his to get his point across. “Block the vents, cover your face. Survive, for me kiddo?” his eyes intense and fierce scanned Daryl’s face. He saw some of the softness of the boy he first met at the woods all those years ago, mixed with the hard lines of time that had been etched onto his face, making him look so concerned right now. Daryl grabbed Clint’s collar, bringing him closer to him. They hesitated for a second, before Clint broke away and left the car. Daryl started to block all the vents whilst Clint was working, and only looked up when he felt the hood slam down. He saw Clint staring at him through the mist that had gathered. No, it had been too quick; it was the gas. He looked up at Clint’s face, eyes bulging and face swollen as he mouthed ‘bye, kiddo’ to him, before collapsing on the floor.  
“CLINT!” he screamed, about to get out of the car to drag him in when he noticed the dark figures approaching. He watched them come to the front of the car holding their mysterious instruments. A stream of fire came out, and burned the person Daryl loved most in the world, right in front of him. He let out a guttural, animalistic sound of pain as he watched the flames die down.  
As the tears stopped falling so hard he began to drive off away from the city, not looking back.

Daryl continued to look at the pile of bodies burning as he came back to reality. Clint might have well as been in the pile considering how fresh the pain felt for Daryl.  
“Hey Carl, come over here!” Daryl called out. “Tell your daddy I need to go blow off some steam, and I’m going out to get some walkers.”  
“I don’t know if-”  
“Look I wasn’t asking for your permission, I just want you to pass on the message.”  
“Okay.”  
“I’ll see you in a bit, kiddo.”


End file.
